The Chaldea team's locker room buzzed as Frankenstein finished her warm-ups. Cameras trained on her as she prepared to face Penthesilea, a fight Kotomine Kirei promoted as the battle of Grail Wars' strongest women. Mordred crouched in the corner while Lancer and Boudica went over the strategy one more time. Their plan focused on targeting Penthesilea's body to try and wear on her cardio, grapple with her early to expend her energy, and threaten takedowns later in the fight to create openings for strikes. Fran nodded along as she took in the last-minute nuggets of advice. A knock at the door snapped the room to attention. One of the Grail Wars staff peeked his head through the door.
"Is everybody ready for the walkout?" he asked.
"Mm," Frankenstein replied with a nod. "Let's go."
Mordred let out a sigh as she carried along a bottle of water, a towel, and a stool out of the room. She stood behind Frankenstein's left side. The walk down the hall seemed the longest with every step, but it could never be long enough. A black curtain separated Frankenstein from the arena, the cage, and what everyone in Chaldea knew would be her most difficult fight. Yet Frankenstein still kept her head high. Her eyes didn't waver as the production staff parted the curtains, revealing the raucous crowd and the black plastic fencing of the octagon cage.
Frankenstein made her usual calm, emotionless walk down the aisle, her arms barely swinging as she approached the cutman. Her face remained still as vaseline coated her face and her gloves were checked. Once cleared, she turned to her coaches and teammates, bowing to them and giving them all a quick embrace. When she got to Mordred, she gave a small smile, the first hint of feeling she showed after walking out of the locker room. She wrapped both arms around Mordred.
"We'll be home soon," she whispered. Mordred held Fran tight with one arm, wishing she could keep it going past the event's broadcasting time. Her arm drooped when Frankenstein let go and headed into the cage. Despite her faith in Fran, her firsthand knowledge of her power, and the weeks they spent preparing for battle, Mordred's heart beat like a machine gun.
Penthesilea's music blared over the loudspeakers as Mordred went into Fran's corner. Pounding war drums, blaring horns, and the cold draw of strings from "The Anvil of Crom" preceded the white-haired Amazon. She emerged from the curtains flanked by her team as though she were the captain of a battalion, her focus square on the upcoming fight. Like Fran, she showed no emotion as she marched to the cutman. Her team consisted of several Hellenic fighters Mordred knew from previous Grail War events: Hercules, Atalanta, Hektor, and Paris among them. They gave Penthesilea mutual bows and touched knuckles with her before she ascended the cage steps.
The taller, rangier Frankenstein stood in her corner hunched over as she studied Penthesilea up close. Penthesilea thin frame belied the power held by her evident muscles. She carried an aura of pride as she stepped into the middle of the cage and outstretched her arms, showing off her powerful body so all would know she came to test her might. Her golden eyes caught Fran's amber and blue eyes in passing. Frankenstein saw, in that moment, a spark of warlike intuition, the eyes of a woman who lived only to fight. It made her wonder if Penthesilea would be better suited as a soldier.
Frankenstein was the first announced, keeping her eyes on Penthesilea as the announcer shouted her name into the microphone: "The Monster" Frankenstein. Penthesilea paced back and forth, a predator stalking its prey, and perked her head up at her own name. The Amazon, she was called, and she flexed with a scowl as her name echoed from the loudspeakers. She strutted to the cage center when the referee called for her and Frankenstein. They looked each other in the eyes, making their intentions clear, and touched gloves before heading back to their corner. Mordred bit on her index finger as the referee started the fight.
Penthesilea rushed to the middle of the cage, cutting off control from Frankenstein. She walked forward as Fran circled her. Frankenstein tested the range with several quick jabs, stepping in and out as she aimed at Penthesilea's head. The slow start heated up as Fran stepped in and fired off a straight to Penthesilea's body, catching a flush shot. It pushed Penthesilea back a step, but she maintained control of the cage and continued to push forward.
Frankenstein hid her next straight with a pair of jabs, but Penthesilea stepped to the side and launched an uppercut. It missed Frankenstein's chin by a centimeter as she pulled back, leaving her torso open for a pair of punches from Penthesilea. The first punch made Fran stifle a gasp; the second made her hide a wince. She faked a takedown as Penthesilea continued to push her back. Penthesilea remained composed, however, and threw a high kick aimed at Frankenstein's temple. A brief error of judgment in her timing caused the kick to soar over Fran's head.
"Commit to it next time!" Scathach shouted from the corner. "Get away from the edge and use your range to set it up!"
Frankenstein took in the advice from her corner and tried to circle around Penthesilea. She kept her guard between her chin and torso as Penthesilea blocked her way, her legs bent and bouncing as she kept herself mobile. Penthesilea jumped an extra step left, leaving a small window for Fran to jump through. It proved a feint, however, when Penthesilea charged with an overhand punch as Frankenstein reset her position. Her punch bruised Frankenstein's arm as she got her guard up at the last second.
Penthesilea kicked Frankenstein's leg like an axe swinging at a tree. The sting staggered Frankenstein once, keeping her on guard as they met in the middle of the cage. She kept her guard high as Penthesilea threatened another kick, again feinted, and let the third fly. Flesh and bone cracked against Frankenstein's shin, making both women grimace. Frankenstein stepped back and fired off more straight punches, keeping Penthesilea at bay. They kept each other moving and guessing, blending feints with strikes as they chipped away at each other's stamina.
Frankenstein went for a takedown as the round drew to the halfway mark. She got her arms wrapped around Penthesilea's legs, but she failed to bring her down as Penthesilea sprawled. Penthesilea jumped to her feet and threw hammerfists down at Frankenstein, her fists thumping against Fran's ribcage and skull. Both corners shouted advice as Frankenstein let go and scrambled to her feet. Her guard came up again as Penthesilea closed the distance and threw an elbow.
"Go for the trip and try to get on top!" Boudica yelled. "You can't stay close like this!"
"Come on Fran!" Mordred shouted, her hands cupped to form a tunnel around her mouth. "You got this! Clinch and circle out of there!"
Try as she might, Frankenstein failed to shake Penthesilea off of her. She went for the clinch and tried to trip her, but Penthesilea kept her against the cage, grinding her against the mesh as the round wound down. The ten second clackers rang in the cage. Penthesilea pummeled Frankenstein's thighs and body with knees as they fought to the final second. When the round-ending horn sounded, Penthesilea pulled away and marched to her corner, almost robotic in her stride as she sat on her stool with an erect back. Frankenstein went back with sweat on her forehead and arms.
"Okay, that was probably not our round," Scathach remarked. "But you didn't take too much damage. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Frankenstein replied. Mordred handed her a bottle of water. She took in a mouthful and spat out half, gulping down the rest as Boudica kneeled next to her.
"You're not going to beat her with raw power," Boudica said. "Let's try to find that small window of opportunity to take her down or strike. Try to avoid her attack before she throws it and counter when she's in the middle of it."
"Understood," Fran said as she got to her feet. Mordred clapped her shoulder as she left the cage, taking a pair of deep breaths as the referee started the second round. Penthesilea marched forward with her hands up, parrying and blocking Frankenstein's punches as she got into close range. Her fists smashed Fran's body like baseball bats. The cracks from each shot rang into the audience, and each made Mordred wince. She bit her thumbnail as Penthesilea kept in control of the fight, neutralizing Fran's power and berserker-like fighting style.
Frankenstein managed to land several hard punches as she stepped out of Penthesilea's range, drawing her into straight shots that pushed her back a step. Lancer called for Frankenstein to advance, and she did while keeping her guard against her chin. Penthesilea went for another shot to the body, but Frankenstein caught her with a hook to the chin. Mordred's eyes lit up as Lancer continued to shout instructions.
"Yes, Fran!" Mordred shouted as she slapped the riser in front of her. "Get her against the cage now!"
Frankenstein continued to throw heavy hands, spurred on by Penthesilea's defensive dodging. She threw an overhand punch hard enough to crack Penthesilea's temple, but her wild strike left her open for a counter. Penthesilea's straight right punch hit Fran square in the mouth, splitting open her lip and forcing her back. Both corners yelled a cacophony of advice, instructions, and encouragement as Penthesilea swarmed over Frankenstein. One minute remained as Penthesilea fired like a cannon. A desperate clinch from Frankenstein only gave Penth a chance to throw a fast elbow, slicing open Frankenstein's cheek. The buzz of the round-ending horn pulled Penthesilea away and to her corner. Mordred was the first in as Frankenstein strode to her stool, wiping blood off her mouth and face as she sat.
"Are you okay?" Mordred asked as she offered a water bottle.
"Can still go," Frankenstein mumbled. She took the bottle and drank two mouthfuls. "Just frustrated."
"Then use that to press forward," Lancer said. "You know you can hit her; you just have to advance while defending. I know it isn't easy, but you have to be confident in your skills."
"I am," Fran replied as she stood and prepared for the next five minutes. Penthesilea stared at her from across the cage. The one sign of damage she wore was a red welt on her jaw, the mark of Frankenstein's best shot in the entire fight. They touched gloves as they met in the middle of the cage, trading jabs immediately after.
Frankenstein tried to push forward, but Penthesilea circled around her, throwing strikes high and low as she moved like a ballerina. She cut off Penthesilea on one step, giving her the chance for a hook, but Penthesilea came forward with a straight punch instead. Mordred watched from the side as Penthesilea kept light on her feet and threw a volley of strikes. It pushed Frankenstein back to the cage. The punches kept coming, not once dropping in speed or power as Penthesilea swam over her like a school of piranhas.
"Fran! You have to get out of there!" Mordred shouted as Penthesilea rained a storm of strikes on Frankenstein. One punch landed below Fran's blue eye, splitting open the skin and sending a trail of blood down her face. Another hit Frankenstein's ear. Her vision blurred for a brief moment, but a shot to her stomach set it right. Frankenstein clenched tight on her jaw and threw a strong right punch, missing Penthesilea by a mile as the Amazon ducked out of the way. She carried herself with the momentum of her missed punch and spun. As Penthesilea came up, Frankenstein's fist smashed her in the nose, knocking it crooked. Blood trickled out of Penthesilea's nostrils as she composed herself.
"There it is!" Mordred yelled. "Keep at it! Take her down if you have to!"
Frankenstein heard Mordred's voice and nodded, lurching forward as she sought to end the fight in that moment. Penthesilea, however, kept moving and threw a high kick at Frankenstein. Though Fran brought up her arms to block, a crack in her right hand sent her nerves on fire. A slight furrow of her brow was all she allowed to show. She went back on the defense as Penthesilea yanked her out of the hurricane's eye, landing elbows to her face, knees to her body, and punches to her head. Mordred pressed her hands together over her face, begging to the aether that Frankenstein would bounce back. The round ended with Frankenstein's back against the cage again.
Scathach and Lancer glanced at each other as Fran stumbled back to the stool. She let her arm rest on her knee, hiding the damage as Scathach knelt in front of her. Mordred heard none of the advice as she stood by with the bottle of water in her hand. She stared at Frankenstein's wounds, each coated in vaseline in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Her chest ached as Frankenstein nodded to Scathach, though her eyes showed little light behind them. Frankenstein glanced at Mordred, snapping her back to the cage.
"Sorry," Mordred whispered as she handed Fran the water bottle.
"It's okay," Frankenstein said after taking a swig. She handed Mordred the bottle and looked her in the eye. Mordred masked her worry, thinking it would affect Frankenstein in the cage. Whether Fran could see it or not, she smiled and placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before she turned to face her opponent. Penthesilea's face scrunched as her busted nose clogged her breathing, forcing her to take in air through her mouth.
Frankenstein came in with a pair of punches aimed for Penthesilea's nose. Penthesilea ducked down, however, and took Frankenstein down. She swam on top and mounted Frankenstein with ease. Her elbows hit like lightning, crushing Frankenstein's damaged arm when she tried to defend and cutting her face when she paused her defense for a reprieve. The referee stood over them, ready to jump in as Frankenstein's defense crumbled. One elbow drawn just a little too high was all Frankenstein needed to hold off the barrage, as she caught it with her left arm. Her waning strength was still enough to get her in top position as she swept Penthesilea.
"Now you got her!" Boudica yelled. "Don't give up this position!"
Frankenstein held Penthesilea down, fighting to posture up so she could land blows of her own. Penthesilea snatched her right arm, however, preparing for a kimura lock as Fran tried to push herself up. The grip on her cracked forearm sent Frankenstein to her feet, however, and she called for the referee to stand up Penth.
"Why'd she do that?" Scathach muttered to Boudica and Lancer.
"Something must be wrong," Boudica said, her hands pressed together as Penthesilea stood with a renewed spark in her eye. "Fran wouldn't do that without a good reason."
Mordred's deep breaths started to draw shallow as the fourth round dragged to the end. Penthesilea swung for the fences as Frankenstein's guard lowered with each minute, clocking her jaw and cheeks. Her faltering defense drove Mordred up the wall. She wanted to jump in and drag Frankenstein out of the cage, throw in a towel to stop the beating, or create some sort of distraction to take Penth's eyes off the fight for the slightest moment. Yet she knew anything of the sort would insult Frankenstein. Scathach, however, stood by with a towel in hand. Frankenstein survived to the end of the round, but her zombie-like shamble back to her corner dashed the last bit of confidence Scathach had for the night.
"I think I should call it, Fran," Scathach said. "You've taken a lot of damage already."
"No," Frankenstein muttered. "I can keep going."
Scathach nodded. "I know you can, but that's not the issue. There's no point in going back out there just to get hurt."
"I can still fight," Frankenstein said with a gasp for air.
"Fran," Mordred said as she joined the circle of coaches. She rested one arm on Fran's shoulder and one on her right arm. At the touch of Mordred's hand, Frankenstein pulled her arm away. Scathach raised an eyebrow as Mordred's eyes dropped.
"Ref!" Scathach shouted as she stood. "The fight's done! We're done!" Frankenstein nodded once, her head low as Scathach waved off the fight. The referee nodded and called for the end; a corner stoppage loss for Frankenstein.
"I'm sorry," Frankenstein whispered as she shook her head.
"Don't be," Boudica said, resting both of her hands on Frankenstein's shoulders. "You put up a better fight than anyone has against her."
Frankenstein shrugged and stood, letting out a lungful of air as she went to the center for the end-of-match ceremony. She clapped as the referee raised Penth's hand. Penthesilea turned to Frankenstein and bowed, offering her left hand.
"Thank you," Penthesilea said with a small grin, her face red from Fran's shots. "It was a good fight."
"Congratulations," Frankenstein said as she shook Penthesilea's hand. She rejoined her team and left the cage, keeping her head high back through the black curtain. Mordred wanted to ask if Fran was okay, but the small bite Frankenstein put on her lower lip kept Mordred silent. The Chaldea team brought Frankenstein to the medical staff. It was protocol to screen fighters after a fight, but they knew the damage Frankenstein took would constitute more than a simple test. When they got to the medical team, the first thing they checked was Fran's cuts and bruises. A blue and purple splotch on her right arm drew their attention.
"It might be fractured," one of the medics remarked. "We can't be sure until we take an x-ray, though."
Frankenstein nodded, saying nothing as she made her way to a waiting ambulance with Ritsuka and Mordred in tow. Lancer, Boudica, and Scathach went to bring their gear back to the hotel. Mordred held Frankenstein's hand as the ambulance pulled out of the parking garage. The wail of the ambulance siren filled the void created by the three's silence. Ritsuka opened her mouth to speak, to offer words of encouragement, but a choked back sob broke the quiet.
"I'm sorry," Frankenstein said. "Mordred, Ritsuka; couldn't do it."
"There's no reason to apologize," Ritsuka said. She offered a small smile and patted Frankenstein's shoulder as the ambulance rolled down the streets. "Maybe tonight wasn't your night, but I know you can bounce back."
Frankenstein sighed and shut her eyes, her adrenaline gone and energy spent. Mordred squeezed Frankenstein's hand. She smiled as Frankenstein rubbed her finger, letting Mordred know she could feel her. As the ambulance pulled into the emergency room drop-off, Mordred's hands curled into fists. It was a fight; she and Frankenstein knew the consequences. Neither had animosity toward Penthesilea before the fight, and Mordred was sure Frankenstein held none toward the Amazon. Yet as the hospital staff got Frankenstein onto a stretcher, Mordred's eyes narrowed at the mental image of Penthesilea, her gloves stained in Fran's blood when the referee raised her arm.
"Ritsuka," Mordred said as they got out of the ambulance. "I know who I want for my next fight."
Ritsuka clicked her tongue. "I'll try, but she's probably next in line for the title."
Mordred shrugged. "Then I'll fight her for the belt if she wins. If she doesn't, then it will be a great way to get the next shot at Artoria."
Ritsuka pursed her lips as they walked into the waiting room. "Are you sure that's what you want? You might have to wait a while."
Mordred cocked her head to the side. "Even I can be patient."